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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663422">Lay It Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysucklesandthorns/pseuds/honeysucklesandthorns'>honeysucklesandthorns</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Stranger Things 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:56:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysucklesandthorns/pseuds/honeysucklesandthorns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mallory Mitchell is the new girl, and the one girl she's made friends with, she's got feelings for. In the month she's been at Hawkins High, Billy Hargrove's really gotten under her skin.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Original Character(s), Original Character/Original Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Peaches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi hello this is mainly for my bby (joonjms on instagram) because they're my true HYPE SQUAD for Mallory. this wasn't beta-read or anything like that, so I apologize for any horrid mistakes!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Tap-tap. Tap-tap. </em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…but what he didn’t know, was that move would be the deciding factor in the Battle of…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mallory Mitchell’s head lolled back on her shoulders. It had been almost a month that she had been in Hawkins. The adjustment from the sunny beaches of Atlantic City hadn’t been an easy one. She missed sitting in the lifeguard stands with her granddad while seagulls screamed overhead, and the wispy roar of the ocean filled their ears. Her grandma had developed some sort of cancer — that’s what they thought it was — so he had spared no expenses for her recovery and she was transferred to a hospital here in this weirdo town. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mallory had made three friends, several acquaintances, and two dozen enemies. High school hallways had their own kind of democracy. The outsiders were the immigrants, the ones that couldn’t be trusted. Encroaching on their well-established territory. Guilty until proven innocent. <em>Whatever</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something hit Mallory’s lap, bouncing gently into the space between her legs. It was paper — not crumpled, but neatly folded. She turned her head to find the owner of the paper. Sophie, with her wavy honey-blonde hair, tanned skin and makeup right out of a Fashion magazine, jerked her head towards the note, urging her to read it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One of those friends, perhaps the closest of them, was Sophie Walker. She’d first seen her in PE, stretching on the field. Fate — or maybe Ms. Summers’ pity for the new girl — had paired them together for warm-ups. Sophie had apologised for her sweaty palms before wrapping her slender fingers around her partner’s ankles. Mallory had made her laugh when she sat up, hands behind her head and breathily said, “It’s okay, I get nervous around cute girls too." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mallory unfolded the note underneath her desk, keeping her black-lined eyes on the teacher as she droned on. The last thing she needed was another detention. Not that she cared, but for the sake of her granddad, she was trying to cap it at one a week. She'd already met that quota, and it was Wednesday. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After painstakingly lifting each side, in Sophie’s delicate, flowing script, it read: </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">“Do you think Steve is cute?” </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mallory folded the note back up, and waited for Sophie to look back her way. Once she had her attention, she mouthed ‘Harrington?’ Sophie nodded. Mallory immediately rolled her eyes, and stuck her finger deep in her mouth. This is elicited a snigger from Sophie, who turned it into a cough to conceal it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="u"> <span class="s1">* THE CAFETERIA — LATER</span> </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why did you ask about Steve in history today?” Mallory finished the last of her soda, and set the can on the floor next to her boot. “Don’t tell me you have a thing for him…” She crunched the can and retrieved it, setting it back on the tray. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, no! I’d rather lick the floor. He’s been around… besides, I think he has a thing for Nancy Wheeler. She’s really pretty… I don’t blame him.” Sophie seemed to contemplate her words for longer than normal. “Hey! Has anyone asked you to prom yet?” She twirled the fork around in the peaches. Mallory pulled her eyes away from the glistening syrup, and fixed them on Sophie’s. Her lips were already twisting into a smirk; they both knew nobody had the balls to approach her — especially to ask such a loaded question. “What about you? Who’s the lucky guy? Obviously not The Hair… too bad for him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fork stopped spinning, and she looked up. “Oh no... I... Nobody.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mallory scooted forward on the table, leaning closer. “Lucky girl?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her face flushed almost immediately. Her high cheekbones were dusted in a summery, pink that extended just up to her temples. It usually hid most of her embarrassment, but Mallory had developed a penchant for making her blush and in doing so, an eye for when she succeeded. Sophie dipped her head back down, concealing her face behind her hair,and sucked in the corner of her bottom lip. Mallory felt her joints turn to mush. <em>God, she’s like a pouting doll… </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mallory blinked away the warmth on her own cheeks, nervous. <em>Shoot your shot... do it. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have an idea…” Her fingers twitched towards her tray, their next destination the creamy, rose-scented skin of Sophie’s hand. They’d been playing this game for two weeks now — or at least, Mallory had interpreted her Delphic responses as such. “We could—</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ladies…” Billy Hargrove. Of course. His timing was impeccable, much like his ego. Out of all the guys in Hawkins High, he had slithered under her skin the deepest. Deeper than Steve Harrington and his ridiculous hair. Deeper than the girl who had called her a satanist lesbian in the gymnasium and made every head turn in her direction. Billy Hargrove had made Mallory clench her teeth so hard, she could’ve sworn they’d crack. For whatever reason, Billy had made it a point to bother her. She had a couple classes with him, but whenever they weren't in class, it seemed as though he always found her in the hallways, too.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">Blue jeans slid against the textured plastic of the bench, and Sophie adjusted herself, scooting slightly away from him. Shielding her face from Billy, Sophie looked to Mallory, and widened her eyes from behind her hand. </span> <span class="s1">“A peach eating peaches… now that’s something.” </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While Sophie laughed nervously, Mallory tossed her head to the side and wretched loudly. “Good one.” She swung her head back to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Charming.” Billy jerked his head to the side, lips pursed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Need some lessons?” Her dark eyes narrowed, and Sophie covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “For sad cases like yours, the first one is free.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Billy chuckled, and ran his tongue along his teeth explicitly, making Mallory uncomfortable — but she didn’t look away. His tongue dipped out and onto his bottom lip, sweeping across that too. The action left it glistening, like he dabbed on the sheerest layer of that gloss Sophie used — <em>Kissing Potion, that’s it.</em> “I bet it is,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you have some kids to bully, or maybe some socks to ruin?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither of them said anything else for the next few moments. Billy held her gaze, and she held his right back, squeezing it tightly. She wanted to leap onto the table like a tiger and slap that smirk into the next zip code. When he dropped his head, and drug his eyes over the curve of Sophie’s ass in her skirt, every muscle in her body tensed up. He followed the curve up to her back, and both of Mallory’s fists came down on the table. “Hey! Asshole!” Sophie jumped, but Billy slowly tilted his head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Language, Miss Mitchell. You’ve already started your week with detention, let’s not finish the week there as well.” Mr. Hannigan passed by, an overstuffed tray in his hands. She paid him no attention, which Billy discovered when he looked back to her. Finally, he pushed himself up off the bench. He said 'Have a good day' in a way that sounded more like a taunt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s got a great ass…” Sophie trailed off for a moment, watching him walk down the tiled stairs. As she stood up, a heavy sigh tumbled off her lips. “Shame he is one. A big one." </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eh,” Mallory scoffed as she stood up, and chucked her trash into the bin. “I’ve seen better.” That was a lie — she hadn’t. Not on a guy at least. But she’d never admit that, not in a million years. “Oh, calm down, Mal. Yours is nicer.” Sophie tittered, shifting her books to the opposite arm so she could cuddle into Mallory. “I would know — I’ve seen it.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mallory groaned in the back of throat, feeling heat caress every inch of her thighs. She shushed her, and drug her towards the doors. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t tease, Soph. Don’t.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Moves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mallory's gets a little too possessive of Sophie. </p><p>WARNING FOR LANGUAGE AND SEXUAL TENSION.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As before, this wasn't beta-read, so I apologize for any mistakes!! I also don't know where I'm going with this!!! WHO TO SHIP WHO TO SHIP</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Wednesday. Prom was two days away, and Mallory hadn’t brought it up again. That was the trouble with being in love with your best friend; you teetered on the edge of doubt. You were always worrying that you were going to ruin it, that you were going to lose the moments you already had and cherished — romantic or not. Besides that, Sophie had some trouble at home, and Mallory knew it had affected her. The night before, her car had broken down, and despite living a privileged life, accidents didn’t come without a healthy dose of reprimanding. Sophie slammed her locker shut with more force than usual. Mallory raised one dark brow, and pulled her jacket from her own locker. She hesitated. “Are you… you okay?”</p><p>Sophie was staring at the front of her locker, motionless. Her usually blushing face was pale, and strands of hair were starting to fall loose from their hairspray prison. “Yeah… yeah. I’m fine.” As though she’d come back to life, her hands rose from her sides, already poised in claw shapes. As she began tousling her hair, she asked, “My dad said he’ll give you a ride home. He’s probably out there.”</p><p>Mallory had suspected that Sophie’s father wasn’t fond of lesbians, but also that he had no idea that Mallory saw his daughter as more than a friend. She intended to keep it that way for as long as she could. “Uhh… no, no thanks. I’ll walk. I need to fit into a dress in two days, right?”</p><p>“Right. I’ll call you later.” She tapped Mallory’s nose twice — as she usually did, and spun on her heels, descending down the stairs. Suddenly, another figure stepped into her peripheral, and sauntered towards the stairs with his hands shoved in his front pockets.</p><p>“Oh-hoh, no. You’ve got to be shitting me…”</p><p>His head turned, just enough for her to see his profile, and see the smirk that spread across his full lips. “Nope. Nope!” She hurriedly forced her arms into the sleeves of her jacket, cursing under breath. She didn’t bother rearranging the books in her locker, only crammed it shut.</p><p>“Hey! HEY! What’s your move, Hargrove?!” Mallory shouted as she stalked towards him. Sophie had already gone through the double doors, and hadn’t heard her yelling.</p><p>At the bottom of the stairs, he turned around. “Excuse me?” Chuckle. Smirk. Waiting.</p><p>Mallory knew the look in his eyes; women didn’t talk to him like that, and if they did, one barking response from him, and they dropped it. <em>Sucks for him.</em></p><p>“You really shouldn’t listen to your music so loud.” She brought her hand to her ear, tapping it mockingly. “Bad for your hearing. I said — what’s… your… move?”</p><p>He took another step closer, flipping the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. Although only a few inches taller than she was, he towered over her. “You’ve got a mouth on you, anyone ever told you that?” Mallory laughed sharply through her nose, looking up at him. He tauntingly flicked his eyebrows up.</p><p>She gripped his belt, her fingers dipping down over the buckle and into the waistband, focusing only on her next move instead of the sensation in front of her. She’d flipped a switch within him — the action made his shoulders sag at an angle, and he put one hand on the lockers behind her. The way he smiled made it look like he was biting gently on the inside of his cheeks. Taking advantage of the faux-moment, she exposed her neck, and rested her head against the metal. She took one very deep breath before moving quickly. She slipped to the side, and used all of her strength to swing him around into the lockers. His back hit them with a metallic crash, knocking the toothpick from his mouth. She had herself pressed against his chest before he could react.</p><p>“What’re you going to do about it? Huh? But, let me guess… you probably like this. God. I’ll never understand that — the guys like who you get ass all the time, and are still so starved for it.” Her chest heaved, breath coming out in anxious puffs. Their faces were close enough that she felt the warmth that Billy radiated. It was like hovering your hand over the hood of a rod that had been baking in the sun all day. It was hot… Billy exhaled a laugh. His breath washed over Mallory’s face. She closed her eyes and tightened her lips.</p><p>“You wanna’ tell me what you’re all worked up for? Huh?”</p><p>She grit her teeth, and shoved her forearm against his windpipe. “Stop dicking around, okay? I’m really not in the mood.”</p><p>Billy adjusted, stretching his neck behind her sleeve, which tugged. The leather was sticking to the sweat on his neck. Mallory’s eyes flitted down to fixate on the sun kissed skin. “Sophie?” He asked. She pulled her gaze away, back up to his face.</p><p>“Ohhh my god, you prick. It’s infuriating that you know. Yeah. Sophie. Yeah. You were going to talk to her, weren't you? What’s your plan with her?”</p><p>His top lip lifted, revealing the devilish smile that she suspected brought the entire cheerleading team to their knees. Literally. “Quick fuck, maybe? Haven’t given her too much thought.”</p><p>Mallory clenched her teeth, the muscles in her jaw quivering. She shoved harder, and Billy coughed. “Well, I have… I have.”</p><p>“I dunno, Mitchell… maybe in the back seat…” <em>THWACK.</em> Billy’s head flew to the side. Mallory’s breath caught in her throat, and her knuckles ached deep inside. He winced, and she didn’t like how it landed on her chest. Billy’s tongue swept across his lip, poking into the corner to dab at the blood that swelled up.</p><p>“I like her…” she whispered, the vibrant tone of her voice was replaced with something more desperate. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Confusion flooded her face, but rage followed after it in a much bigger wave. He was trying to humiliate her. What Billy — and everyone else at the school — knew was that Sophie and Mallory always showed up to school together, because Mallory didn’t have a car. He knew that they always sat together at lunch, and snickered at those they didn’t like. He knew that Sophie was the water to Mallory’s fire — and frequently put it out when the fire rose too high. What he didn’t know — and Mallory would never tell anyone — was that her heart ached every time she looked at Sophie. On the weekends, they’d sprawl out on Mallory’s fluffy pink carpet in their underwear, listening to records and pretending they were doing photoshoots for the rock covers of those albums. Mallory wanted nothing more than to hold Sophie in her arms — but maybe Billy did know that. Maybe he did. </p><p> </p><p>“Who else?”</p><p>“Wh-what?” She sputtered, his caramel voice shaking her out of her thoughts.</p><p>“Who else, Mallory? Big bitch on campus, has an attitude with everyone. Who else do you have it bad for? Let’s hear the list. I've got time.”</p><p>The question stunned her. Or maybe it was the way Billy was looking at her. He had blue eyes, and how they looked so dark was beyond her comprehension. He wondered the same thing. Faster than she had socked him, he had spun her around, his hands were clamped tightly to her biceps, pinning them against the lockers. Her back was pressed against the metal doors and the knob of a lock dug into her spine. Flailing and groaning through her teeth, Mallory bent her arms at the elbows, trying to reach for anything on him that she could grab. He'd angled his body at an angle, making everything just out of reach.</p><p>“Let go,” she hissed. “Get your fucking hands off of me.”</p><p>“You really want that?”</p><p>He was dangerous, the bad kind of dangerous, but Mallory saw through it. She'd dealt with every type of guy back in New Jersey; the pathetic weasels, the jerks, the soft boys who tried to hide under mean exteriors, the ones that didn't know what respect was and thought they were God's gifts. She knew them all — and she knew which one was standing in front of her. Someone cleared their throat next to them. In unison, they turned their heads. The owner was a stocky man with a thick moustache and deep set eyes. He had a brown, fold-over briefcase in one hand, and a stack of papers tucked in the crook of his other arm. </p><p>“Not on school property. Out.” </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We were just getting started…” Billy muttered, loosening his grip on Mallory’s arms. He seemed like he knew who this guy was — maybe a teacher she didn’t have. She didn’t care who he was — but he looked like he had the authority to write her up. She muscled her way out from underneath Billy, and the teacher took that as enough promise that they wouldn’t have to clean any fluids off the bathroom stalls the next morning. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As soon as the doors swung shut, Mallory shrugged out the stiffness in her jacket. “Listen,” she barked, pausing to blindly fluff her hair. “I can deal with a lot of things, Hargrove, but I’ll shit twice and die if I have to sit in detention because of you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">She didn't wait for a response from him, but as her palms hit the door, she realized <strong>— </strong> she didn't tell him no, but she didn't tell him yes either.</p>
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